


A Storm is coming

by who_said_i_cared



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:04:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_said_i_cared/pseuds/who_said_i_cared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate Storm, enemy of everyone. The 18 year old hacker isn't really on the dark side, nor the white. she seems to be in that strange foggy grey bit in the middle, running from anyone that might shed a light on her past, or threaten her future. One man that seems to do just that is a certain Jim Moriarty, and he wants revenge...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1  
KATE’S POV  
I came round after what felt like only a few seconds, however I didn’t open my eyes. I was taught to use all my senses and that was exactly what I did. Using touch I could feel something cold digging into my wrists: handcuffs, I also noticed that I was sitting on a hard wooden chair. I also gathered that I was still in my little, dark blue dress that I wore to the ball and I could also feel a still cold air surrounding me: I was inside, somewhere cold. Using smell, I could smell cigarette smoke. Using sound I could hear a pair of expensive shoes clicking off a stone floor and echoing off large walls: I knew I was somewhere big like a warehouse. I was prepared. I knew exactly where I was and who I was dealing with. It was time to use sight.   
I slowly opened my heavy eyelids and blinked a few times to get the blurriness out of them. I immediately looked around me. The room was slightly swaying. I was right; there I was, handcuffed to a wooden chair in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. I also took in the two, heavy built men standing on either side of me. Perfect, I thought. I slowly moved my gaze to the man in front of me. He practically stank of money. He wore a designer suit and his dark hair was slicked back neatly. As my eyes reached his I realized that I had forgotten how cold and reptilian they were. They were dark eyes that felt like they bore into your soul demanding to know all your weakness. They were eyes that could only be possessed by one human on the entire earth. They were the eyes of James Moriarty. He stood about 5 feet away from me, grinning menacingly as he dropped his cigarette and stood on it with one of his impeccably polished, designer shoes. I mirrored his grin and crossed my pale legs before saying.  
“Oh hey, fancy seeing you here!” I smiled cockily, letting him know that this whole ordeal didn’t bother me, and it didn’t, I had been in this situation many times before, and I would even go as far as saying that I liked the rush of adrenaline it gave me.  
“Well Miss Storm, I do hope you had a comfortable ride here” He grinned after a while, his dark eyes flitting across the bruised skin on my arms and legs. He knew fine well that my ride here was far from comfortable. Well, that was unless his idea of comfortable was arriving at a reporter’s ball, only to be gagged and dragged out of one of the back doors of the hall, where it was held, by five mysterious men, getting dragged into a van and then finally getting knocked out.  
“Yes, your chauffeurs were extremely sociable!” I said enthusiastically as I looked at the stone still body guard to my right before lifting my eyebrow and flashing a quick smile in Moriarty’s direction. I had been taught that people are like wild animals: if you show fear they will attack, so I was taught to never show fear. Not showing fear came naturally to me, so naturally that sometimes I believed that I had no fear left.   
He chuckled slightly before putting on a mask that could’ve only been described as predatory. He took a few steps forward, never at any point breaking eye contact with me.  
“How many times have I tried to kill you Kate?” He asked darkly. I dropped my gaze to the floor as I tried to think. There was that time he tried to blow up my house. There was also that other time where he strapped bombs to the bottom of my car. Of course, not forgetting that time when he paid one of my own friends to kill me. There were other times as well, but after the fourth or fifth time someone tries to kill you, it all becomes one big blur.   
A few minutes had passed when I realised that I had lost count of the amount of times that Moriarty had tried to kill me, but failed. I looked up to meet his eyes again.  
“I’ve lost count.” I said simply.  
He sighed deeply before walking slowly in the opposite direction, away from me. He held his head in his hands in mock exasperation.  
“Eight!” He shouted as he looked back at me. “I have tried to kill you eight times, but you just don’t die do you?!” He shouted almost manically.  
At this first sign of anger I decided that I needed to get away from him. I tried to fiddle with the handcuffs but they were locked tight. I then realised that I was wearing a bracelet with a pin that closed it, a pin that I could use to unlock the handcuffs, as long as the two guards beside me weren’t paying attention. I just needed to keep him talking.  
“I tend not to; I hear it’s bad for your health.” I replied, smirking. I managed at this point to get the pin out of my bracelet.  
He glared at me which caused the smirk I was wearing to saturate into a look of passiveness. He then quickly stormed towards me until he was only about a couple of feet away from me. In an act of uncontrollable anger he quickly slammed his hand onto the back of the wooden chair over my left shoulder which caused a shudder to go through my body. He was leaning over and his face was only inches away from mine. I tried to keep my breathing steady and my face impassive but the more I looked at his manic eyes, the harder it became. I could feel the sleeve of his expensive suit brushing my neck and it sent shots of ice down my spine.   
“Don’t show fear” I repeated in my head. So I glared right back into his merciless eyes.  
“You’re just a little kitten in a world of lions; it’s no place for you to be playing your silly little games.” He said to me as if I was an infant. I smiled slightly and continued to keep my gaze and my breathing steady.  
“If I’m just a little kitten, then why haven’t you KILLED ME YET!” I shouted, partly to hide the shaking in my voice. He looked down, his hand still resting on the back of the chair. The dim lights of the warehouse danced along his slicked back hair as he looked down. He sighed before looking up, meeting my gaze once again.  
“Because everyone knows that kittens have nine lives.” He said sternly as he stood up and straightened his suit jacket, never at any point breaking eye contact with me. “And you’re all out of lives.” He grinned.  
I took that as my cue. At this point I had managed to unlock the handcuff on my left wrist.  
“No I’m not!” I said simply, and before I let him register what I had said, I stood up and swung the handcuff with my right hand making sure that the left handcuff hit his face. As he groaned with the pain of the metal hitting his jaw I turned round to the two guards that had already taken their guns out. I picked up the chair I was sitting on and struck the guard on my right in the gut, causing him bend over and loosen his grip on his gun, I went behind him and twisted his wrist, which made him release the gun. I then used him as some sort of shield from the other guard that was standing about five feet away from me. I shot the guard across from me causing him to fall in a heap on the cold floor. I then shot the body guard that I was hiding behind and a cry of pain escaped his mouth and echoed off the stone walls.  
Once I had done all that, I quickly turned my attention back to Moriarty. The air was still, only occasionally being pierced by the gentle clinking of the handcuff that was still hanging off my right wrist. I sorted out my dress strap which had fallen during the whole ordeal, all the time keeping the guards gun pointed towards Moriarty. I noticed that there was a cut on his jaw, where the handcuff hit him and that a steady stream of dark blood was trickling down his neck. He stood up straight, refusing to look weak in any sort of way, before taking a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and dabbing at the cut, as if he had just finished a meal. I smirked; pleased with the work I had done on both him and his two guards.  
“Cut you, and you bleed like the rest of us!” I smiled cockily slowly edging my way towards him. He continued to dab the blood on his neck for a while. Then, once he had decided that the bleeding had slowed, he folded the blood soaked handkerchief neatly and placed it back into his shirt pocket. He hadn’t quite managed to clean all the blood of his pale face, there were still some red patches smeared across the bottom of his chin and neck. He slicked a stray hair back into its usual place before finally looking at me.  
“Of course I bleed! For I am not a god, I am the devil, and even the devil bleeds.” He smirked as he placed his hands casually into his trouser pockets and began to pace from left to right. I kept my gun pointed at him at all times, but he didn’t really seem fazed by it. Maybe that was one thing we had in common, we had seen so many guns and so much blood that it didn’t faze us. Having something in common with one of the most deadliest criminals in the world, stirred a feeling of uneasiness inside of me.  
He stopped walking and my wandering attention snapped back to him.  
“Good work by the way.” He smirked, looking at the two guards behind me. “But it’s not over yet kitten, it’s only just begun.”  
Before I could take in what he said, I heard a loud gunshot echoing from somewhere in the warehouse, I then let a scream escape my mouth as a burning sensation began to seep it’s way around my right forearm as I dropped my gun. As I looked down at my forearm, I saw dark blood beginning to pour out of it. I grabbed onto the shot wound in some sort of attempt to take the pain away, but the more seconds that ticked by the more excruciating the pain became. As I blinked the tears out of my eyes I saw the gun lying a couple of feet away from me, but before I could even think about retrieving it, I heard another gunshot. I then felt my right leg give way from under my body that was starting to feel heavier by the minute. I screamed as I reached the ground and as an even more unbearable pain started to spread throughout my whole leg. I felt almost paralyzed, my body was getting heavier and heavier and I was struggling to keep my eyelids open. Before I completely passed out, I saw a shadowy figure crouching down in front of me through the tears in my eyes. Even though I had fog in my eyes I knew exactly who he was. I managed to gather up enough of my decreasing energy to show him that I was still not scared.  
“Your snipers got a shit aim!” I croaked as my eyesight became blurrier.   
“Oh, but I don’t want to kill you just yet kitten.” I heard him coo before my body shut down and my surroundings plunged into darkness.


	2. I broke martin...

CHAPTER 2  
KATE’S POV  
I slowly opened my heavy eyelids. A few milliseconds of emptiness passed, where I felt nothing but a sort of peace, but that feeling was soon replaced by a sense of panic. I sat up quickly. The room was swaying slightly and I had to hold my head in my hand to somehow stop the dizziness. As I opened my eyes after a while, something on my forearm caught my attention, an impeccably wrapped bandage. Then it all came rushing back, the shooting, the fighting, even the burning pain in my arm and leg came back, only a lot more subsided. I then began to take in my surroundings. I was in a large bedroom, and I was sitting on a king sized bed with luxurious, white cushions and pillows made of the finest materials I assumed. There wasn’t much in the room, a bedside table with a small reading light and a couple of large wardrobes. Everything was a blinding white and reminded me of a hospital room. There was a small window parallel to the bed I was sitting in which let in the lazy spring morning sun. I threw the heavy duvet cover off of me and caught a glimpse of my leg; it was the same as my arm, carefully wrapped in a white bandage. I stood up; I needed to find out where I was and why. I waited for the dizziness to subside before heading out of the bedroom.   
As soon as I walked out of the room I was greeted by a dark red hallway, littered with beautiful paintings. I looked to my right, only to find more doors and paintings, but as I looked to my left I saw what looked like the top of a staircase. I began to make my way unsteadily towards it.  
I walked down the marble staircase, the smooth stone sending shots of ice through my bare soles. I reached the bottom and was met by a wooden door that was slightly ajar. From it I heard one side of a telephone conversation. As I slowly walked closer I began to recognise the Irish drawl, Moriarty. I waited a while after he put the phone down and I breathed in deeply before opening the door and slightly limping into the room. He was leaning on a marble counter in the middle of the room, his mobile in one hand. I looked around, it was a kitchen. Pots and pans were hanging above an industrial sized stove and an enormous sink was lying next to it. What seemed like miles of marble counter surrounded the room. If the kitchen didn’t belong to the world’s most dangerous man I wouldn’t have resisted the urge to gasp at its sheer size.  
I averted my attention back to Moriarty, he was grinning at me which made the cut on his jaw look even bigger.  
“Nice cut!” I sniggered, before crossing my arms cockily.  
“Nice outfit!” He mimicked. I looked down as soon as he said this only to find a crisp white shirt, draped loosely around my body. It stopped just at the middle of my thigh. I didn’t notice it when I woke up this morning. I blushed and pulled at the hem of the shirt, as if that would make it longer.  
“What am I wearing?” I said angrily after a while, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.  
“Well, you see, I like seeing you in my clothes; it makes me feel like I own you.” He growled sinisterly before looking up and down my body and grinning. I felt sick to the core by his comment and I shrunk back, as if his shirt that I was wearing was poison. However I then remembered what I was taught: no matter how scared I was, I was to remain strong and fearless. I let my expression turn into one of impassiveness and straightened up and let my arms dangle at my sides.   
“Why don’t you just kill me!?” I shouted, out of genuine annoyance. I was utterly sick of playing his games, if he wanted to kill me, then so be it, in fact it would’ve given me some peace of mind knowing that I would escape the hell that was my life and the world that I lived in.  
“What’s the fun in that! I want to break you first!” He growled, a hint of excitement mixed in with his accent.   
“Before you go wasting your time trying to break me, you should know that I killed the last person that broke me.” I said, with a look of anger creeping across my face involuntarily. I wasn’t proud of it, but I wanted to make a point. He laughed before taking a step towards me.  
“Ouch!” He said with mock pain. “Kitty’s got claws!”  
I glared at him and a few seconds passed with both of us simply glaring at each other.  
“Well, I would love to stay and have a staring contest with you, but the criminal world won’t run itself.” He smiled before walking past me as if he was just a gust of wind. My eyes followed him to the large door of the kitchen, where he stopped suddenly, as if a thought just hit him.  
“Oh, you didn’t think I was going to leave you here alone did you?” He said as he turned to face me. “I’ve got someone to look after you. Kitty, meet Martin.” As he said this, a tall, middle aged, brown haired figure appeared next to him in the doorway. He wore a simple suit over his heavily built body and his steely eyes locked onto mine. We stared at each other for a while, taking in each other’s appearances. I could see Moriarty smirking out of the corner of my eye as he looked between me and Martin.  
“Well, you kids have fun!” He smiled as he patted Martin on the shoulder and walked towards the front door. Neither Martin nor I moved as we heard him go out the door and lock it behind him.

It was about an hour after Moriarty had left and Martin and I hadn’t said a word to each other yet. I got the feeling that he didn’t want to babysit a moody 18 year old and I certainly didn’t want to be babysat. We were both sitting across from each other in Moriarty’s large living room. Martin had found a newspaper on the coffee table and was reading it, and I found a book on one of the dozen large bookcases that were surrounding the room. It was a book on chemistry, I had no interest in chemistry and I was only reading it to keep my mind occupied, for if my mind wasn’t occupied, memories would start to rise and I didn’t want that to happen, not then, not ever. After a while of staring at different chemical formulas my mind started to wonder and memories started to surface. I started picturing my dad and my mum, their faces warm and loving, and before I knew it my breathing was getting quicker and heavier and sweat was starting to collect on my palms, I needed something else to occupy my mind. I scanned the room and my eyes fell onto a laptop lying on a desk at the end of the room, in front of a large window. I stood up quickly and strode towards it. I needed something that would take my mind of my past like a drug addict would need drugs; I would have shut down if I didn’t find something to occupy my brain soon. I had reached the desk and was shakily extending my bandaged arm to open the laptop lid.  
“Don’t do that!” Martin said, his deep voice rumbling across the room. I quickly turned round to face him. He hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper.  
“Why?” I asked as I crossed my arms.  
“Because I told you not to!” he said as if he was scolding a child. I laughed and walked towards him.  
“I don’t take orders from you!” I said as I stopped in front of him. He dropped the crisp white newspaper and sighed before looking up at me.  
“Just behave!” he said condescendingly as he rolled his eyes.  
“What’s the fun in behaving?” I whispered as I picked up a mug that was behind me on the coffee table and slammed it into the side of his face. As he lifted his hand to where the mug hit, I swiftly kicked him in the stomach. He groaned but stood up and grabbed onto my sore leg, which I kicked with, and twisted it so that I landed hard on my back on the floor. I cried out at the sharp pain that shot down my leg and back before using my free leg to kick the front of his knee which caused his knee to break and made Martin fall with a thump onto the cold wooden floor. Once he was on the floor I wriggled away from him and grabbed a heavy vase that was on top of one of the bookshelves and brought it down on his head causing the vase to shatter onto the floor and all over Martins face. He groaned and then stopped moving. I slowly crouched down beside his head which was covered in dripping blood. I grabbed onto his hair and pressed my knee into his gut, where I kicked him earlier, which made him cry out in pain. His eyes were barely open.   
“Where are the keys to the front door?” I asked sternly. He looked at me for a while. I pressed my knee harder into his gut causing a growl of pain to erupt from somewhere in his chest. I pressed my knee harder and harder into his gut until he spoke.  
“I don’t know, I honestly don’t, I wasn’t told about any key and I wasn’t given any key.” He whispered through gritted teeth, I understood that he probably hated being beaten up by a girl, but I enjoyed it too much to sympathise.  
“Well, this was a lot more fun than that stupid laptop!” I laughed before bringing his head up and then down again, hard onto the floor which caused a dull crack to echo through the large room. He was out for the count.  
Once I had struggled to drag Martins heavy body to a nearby radiator and tied his hands tightly to it with a pillow case of one of the expensive cushions in the living room, I decided that I needed something else to occupy my mind. As I was walking around the mansion in search for something that would keep me busy I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror next to the front door. I looked terrible; I barely looked like myself anymore. My dark blonde hair was sticking to the side of my face with the sweat from fighting with Martin and I had bruises up and down my arms and some on my pale, long, face. The bandages on my leg and arm were peeling off revealing dark patches of dried blood. My dull blue eyes looked empty as they stared back at me from the large mirror and Moriarty’s shirt that I was wearing was covered in blood. The more I looked at my dilapidated self the angrier I became with Moriarty. I wanted to look strong and I wanted to look brave, but just by being in his house for half a day had driven me crazy and made me look weak and scared. I was starting to loose strength of mind and I wasn’t going to get it back by looking like a train wreck, so I decided that to gain strength I had to look strong.  
I quickly ran upstairs to find the room that I woke up in (which took a while considering that there were so many rooms in the house) and opened one of the two wardrobes to find a variety of dresses. It took my breath away; they were made of the finest materials and the richest of colours.   
“He must have a lot of female company!” I murmured to myself as I filed through the dozens of dresses. I spent ages picking one that I was going to wear and in the end I decided that less was more and opted for a simple black dress that swayed half way down my thigh and had sleeves down to my wrists. Happy with my choice I picked out a pair of black heels that I could just about walk in without stumbling and picked out a pearl necklace to go with the whole outfit. Once I had picked out the outfit I began to search for a bathroom. I couldn’t find one anywhere on the top floor so I decided to go look for one downstairs. It took what felt like ages but I found one at the end of the hallway downstairs.   
As I slowly opened the door to the bathroom I was greeted by sheer class, the whole bathroom was bigger than some people’s houses and was covered, ceiling to floor in marble. In the corner stood a grand shower encased in crisp, clear glass. I placed my dress down on the floor and peeled off Moriarty’s shirt which somehow looked bloodier from when I last saw it in the mirror and chucked it in a bin in the corner of the room. I then found a match box full of matches next to a large candle on the windowsill, and set the bin on fire in ceremonial fashion and stood there gazing at the beautiful, dancing, reds and yellows before putting it out once everything was burnt down. I was about to go into the large shower before my eyes caught onto the bandage on my arm, I hesitated to take it off, worried about what damage I would be greeted with underneath but decided that I would have to do it sometime. I took the end of the bandage and unravelled it slowly wincing every now and then. The damage wasn’t that bad, it would scar, but it was just dry blood covering the wound. I took the bandage off my leg as well and put both bandages in the bin, on top of the ashes before finally stepping into the shower. I turned the large dial in front of me slowly and a rush of warm water came out of the enormous showerhead and hit my body. I stood there for ages just letting the warm water run over my whole body taking the dry blood, my fear, and my past with it down the plughole. I felt stronger, I was stronger and I once again became the girl with no fear.


	3. Hello old "friend"

CHAPTER 3  
KATE’S POV  
I had spent about an hour in the shower and had gotten all my clothes on and left my mid- length hair to dry loosely around my shoulders. Happy with the new, strong, image that I saw when I looked in the bathroom mirror, I decided to roam the mansion In hopes of finding something to occupy me once more. After about an hour of walking around the massive mansion, to the sound of my heels echoing off the walls, curiously looking, I heard the front door open. It was late afternoon at this point and I was upstairs in one of the dozens of rooms looking through the wardrobe curiously. As soon as I heard the front door open I ran to the door of the room and waited for the click of designer shoes to disappear into the living room where an unconscious Martin would be tied up to the radiator. Once he had gone into the living room I slowly started descending the stairs, stopping midway when I heard an accented shout emanating from the living room.  
“Kitty!” I heard the all too familiar Irish accent shout in a sing- song voice. I didn’t reply but just stood in the middle of the grand staircase, waiting. After a couple of seconds I heard the clicking of his shoes start up again, meaning that he was on the move once again. He came out of the living room and stopped short at the bottom of the staircase once he saw me.  
“Don’t worry about him, he’ll be awake within the hour.” I said as a familiar cocky smile spread across my face and his.  
“Well, you’ve certainly been busy, haven’t you?” He smirked. I wasn’t sure if he had meant what I had done with Martin or what I was wearing, but his glassy stare looking up and down the dress was answer enough for me. “Well, I suppose that saves me bother, it means you don’t have to get ready now!” He said matter-of-factly.  
“Ready for what?” I asked harshly  
“I want you to come with me to meet someone.” He replied.  
“Who?” I asked, just a little too eagerly as I stepped down onto the step below.  
“Now, that would be telling!” He sing-songed as he grinned and tapped the side of his nose. I crossed my arms defensively before saying,  
“I’m not going until you tell me!” I stated sternly. He sighed over dramatically.  
“Fine then, your loss.” He said mockingly as he started to make his way slowly towards the front door, teasing me. I weighed out my options; I could’ve stayed in his house bored to death with only my demons for company, or I could go with him, somewhere. I had nothing left to loose, I thought I was going to die sometime soon at Moriarty’s hand, and I didn’t want to die bored.  
“Wait.” I sighed just before he reached the door. I hated giving Moriarty what he wanted. I stepped down the stairs and reached the door where he was standing.  
“Curiosity killed the cat.” He whispered as he grinned. I narrowed my eyes at him before stepping out into the brisk spring evening.  
We had been travelling for about half an hour. Nothing broke the silence but the gentle hum of the sleek black car, and the odd business call that Moriarty had to take. I didn’t listen to what he was saying, instead I gazed out of the tinted window and out onto the sea of houses and cars of London, and let my thoughts wander. The car came to a steady halt and I snapped back to reality. One of Moriarty’s men opened the door and offered me a hand to help me get out. I refused to take it and hopped out of the car.   
I was greeted by a dingy building. Bits of concrete were falling off the outside and windows were boarded up with rotting wood.   
“Classy, isn’t it?” Moriarty said. I jumped a little at his sudden appearance; I hadn’t noticed him getting out of the car. I turned to him, his dark mischievous eyes already locked onto mine.  
“So now are you going to tell me why I’m here?” I asked, frustrated that my curiosity was getting the better of me. He grinned at me before marching off in the direction of the warehouse. Before I knew it my feet were following him and I cursed under my breath at my weak will. He slowly opened the creaky door and stepped into a large empty room with nothing but concrete covering the walls and floor. I walked in behind Moriarty and one of his men followed closely behind me. I crossed my arms to try and maintain what body heat I had left. The whole room was dark apart from a light bulb hanging from a rafter above us. We stopped once the low light of the light bulb covered us both. After a few seconds of silence and stillness, I heard footsteps approaching us from the darkness beyond the light. I strained my eyes to try and find out who the footsteps belonged to, but it was no use, it was too dark. The footsteps got louder and louder before a tall figure started to become clearer and clearer by the second before coming into the dim light. The very sight of his round, middle aged face and expensive clothes made my skin crawl, and the look of blank expression that he wore on his face brought back too many memories.  
“Mycroft Holmes.” I muttered to myself out of a mixture of shock and anger. He looked at Moriarty and then to me, causing my hands to clench.  
“I thought we agreed to only bring one guard.” Mycroft questioned looking between the guard that was hovering over my shoulder and then to me again. His face was starting to go pale.  
“Well, I thought it would be nice for an old friend of yours to come along.” Moriarty said jokingly. However the look on Mycroft’s face became sterner, was that fear I was seeing in his eyes?  
“I thought you were dead.” Mycroft said, a slight tremor in his crisp voice.  
“No, you wanted me dead.” I said gritting my teeth as a hot anger started to burn and eat away at my insides.  
“Why would I have wanted you dead?” He asked starting to look worried. Something about his tone made me snap.  
“Because I was risk to your government! After I hunted down hundreds of dangerous criminals by hacking into their computer systems, it back fired; I got caught in the act and instead of you and your government giving me protection from all these criminals that wanted me dead, you decided that you would kick me out onto the street without a PENNY! I had to go into hiding; otherwise I would not be standing here! I would be a corpse, buried six feet underground in some dodgy woods because some criminal found me and made me pay for messing with their businesses. And you wouldn’t even CARE! You make me SICK!”   
My screamed words hung in the silent air around the three of us. I took a few quick steps towards Mycroft but before I could reach him my arm was grabbed by Moriarty’s guard. As he held my arm I composed myself and stood up straight, not showing weakness. The iron grip of the guard was not going to break, so I decided that I would just have to wait this one out rather than fighting my way out. I glared at Mycroft who looked as if he was about to faint, my breath was ragged and heavy from the outburst. After a few seconds of silence I heard slow clapping coming from beside me. I turned round to face where it was coming from and I was met with Moriarty’s smug face. He stopped after a few seconds.  
“Well, that was quite a show.” He said sarcastically. Grinning at me, that was what he was expecting all along. I didn’t say anything but turned my head back to Mycroft. Moriarty did the same and continued talking.  
“So Mr. Holmes, do we still have an exchange?” He asked.  
“Yes, where will we meet?” Mycroft sighed nervously.  
“Tomorrow, here, at 12 o’clock at night. Both captives will walk alone, bring as many guards as you so desire.” Moriarty stated precisely as if he had practised it many times before.  
“Okay.” Mycroft said tiredly as he extended a pale shaky hand towards Moriarty. Moriarty accepted it with a smile. Mycroft then turned to me.  
“Miss Storm.” He said as he nodded his head slightly towards me   
“I won’t die happy until I dance in the ashes of you and your government.” I said to him grinning. He looked as If he was about to throw up. I wish I could have savored the look on his face a little longer but after a while I was dragged away by the guard, who still had his hand clamped around my arm, and Moriarty followed after us, leaving behind, promise of destruction.


	4. I talked to a dead person...

JOHNS POV  
“SHERLOCK!” I shouted trying to find my flat mate. “SHER….”  
“GOD JOHN, THERE IS NO NEED TO SHOUT!” I heard a muffled reply. I stepped over the bags of shopping I was forced to abandon, towards where the shout came from. I thought that it had come from Sherlock’s room, yet as I stood there, there was no sign of him.  
“Sherlock?” I said cautiously. Then in a flash, he came tumbling out of the wardrobe that I was standing in front of and landed in a heap on top of me. I groaned from the weight of him hitting me in the stomach. He quickly stood up, dusted off his suit and looked down at me expectantly.  
“I know that I have been living with you for too long to even be asking this question… but what the hell were you doing in there?!” I asked as I propped myself up on one arm, with the other soothing my aching stomach from where Sherlock fell on top of me.  
“I was hanging upside down.” He stated.  
“Of course you were, why?” I asked as I sat up.  
“I was trying to master the technique that bats use to hang upside down.” he said with his expressionless face.  
“Just help me up.” I sighed as I rolled my eyes.  
“You see it’s very interesting…..” he carried on as he left the room, leaving me on the floor.  
“Fine, it’s fine, I’ll help myself up.” I grumbled as I heaved my aching body up from the floor.  
As I walked into the open plan living room I noticed that Sherlock had gone over to the microwave and come back with, what looked like a burnt marshmallow.  
“Look at this!” He said as he held out this thing which smelt like burnt flesh. “So that’s what happens when you put an eye into a microwave.”  
I sighed, pushing his hand away.  
“So that was what put the fire alarm off.” I said.  
“Yes, most likely.” He said rather upbeat before going into the kitchen and placing the eyeball into a test tube full of liquid and watching it bubble.  
“Okay, you’re bored” I stated as I sat down across from him.  
“What gave it away?” he asked, his green eyes never leaving the test tube.  
“lucky guess.” I said.  
He grunted.  
“You need a case, and I’ve got one for you.” I said.  
He looked at me.  
“It was the wife.”  
“Erm..”  
“Ex- husband”  
“No i..”  
“OR THE SON!” He said clearly getting carried away.  
“SHERLOCK!” I shouted, it was times like these that I lost my temper. I composed myself before carrying on.  
“A man phoned me this morning, saying that he had a case, he was in touch with someone that he thought was dead. He said he couldn’t tell me much then, but he’s coming here in ten minutes.”  
Sherlock had a look of eagerness on his face, one that reminded me of a child waiting for its presents at Christmas.  
“Intriguing.” He said. I had him hooked.  
Sherlock and I were sitting in the living room, awaiting this mysterious man. Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair with his head perched on steepled fingers and I was sitting across from him reading the newspaper as the mid-day light swam around our odd little apartment. It was 12 o’clock in the afternoon when we heard a knock on the door downstairs and muffled voices belonging to Mrs Hudson and the man I had talked to on the phone. Sherlock snapped back to reality and was staring at the door waiting, and i had put down my newspaper and was listening out. After about a minute the voices had stopped and had been replaced with the sound of shoes coming up the stairs towards the apartment. The footsteps had stopped and a loud crisp knock filled the room followed by two others. I was the first to get up and I slowly went over to the door and opened it, revealing a young man with a mop of brown hair covering his forehead and stopping at the top of a pair of expensive looking glasses. He looked down at me with brown eyes as I held out my hand.  
“I suppose that you are the man that phoned me earlier.” I stated more than asked. He nodded eagerly before taking my hand.  
“Eddy Banks.” He said gently. “Thanks for taking the time out to talk to me today.”  
“That’s quite alright, come, sit down, I believe that you have a lot to talk about.” I said, gesturing to one of the chairs across from Sherlock.  
“Thank you.” He smiled before walking over to the chair.  
“I believe that you are the great Sherlock Holmes.” Eddy said before he sat down. “Pleasure to meet you.” He carried on as he held out his hand. Sherlock looked between Eddy and his hand, not taking it. Eddy coughed awkwardly as he let his arm dangle by his tall body and sat down on the chair. I sat down on the chair next to him.  
“The ink on your sleeve is fresh and suggests that you’ve come straight from work, however your hair is tousled and you smell like fresh air indicating that you walked from work, meaning that you don’t work far from here. Your social skills aren’t too bad but the threads on your shirt show that you’ve been playing with it nervously, indicating that your social skills don’t come naturally to you, which means that you’ve been trained to be sociable, possibly for your job. The way that you talked to John a minute ago, saying ‘thanks for taking the time out to talk to me today’ sounded like something an interviewer would say. That, the ink stain on your shirt sleeve and the fact that you probably walked from the publisher down the road indicates that you are a journalist.” Sherlock sat back, a smug look on his face. Eddy looked amazed his eyes wide and his smile showing off his perfect, white teeth.  
“Well done, however how do I know that you didn’t just look at that newspaper?” Eddy replied as he smirked and pointed to the newspaper on the table, his name stated at the bottom of the front page article. I could sense Sherlock tensing up, clearly annoyed that this man just insulted his intelligence.  
“So tell us what’s wrong.” I said partly to break the tension and partly because I was genuinely intrigued by this man’s case. He coughed before starting.  
“Well, I used to work for the government, I used to type up files and documents and what not, and during this time I met a young girl, she was about 16 or so and I was about 18 at that time. She said that she worked on the computers in security. Anyways she and I got on like a house on fire, that was until she disappeared. One day she just didn’t turn up to work, I asked people if they had seen her and nobody really knew who she was, I suppose she kept herself to herself, she only really talked to me. So I went up to security, and asked Mycroft, your brother, if he had any idea where she was.” He nodded towards Sherlock whose ears had perked up at the mention of his brother’s name.  
“He simply said that she had died, and as I asked how, why or when he simply walked away, not bothered by the fact that his young employee had died. Something about his impassiveness about her death set me off. I quit my job and got employed by a big international newspaper company selling stories about petty things that the government had done, stuff like putting taxes up and slashing pensions. It wasn’t much of a revenge plan, but it was something.  
Fast forward about two years and I have now worked my way up the journalistic ladder, I received a phone call from the girl that I thought was dead. She told me that she had seen one of my articles in a newspaper and asked if we could meet at the reporters ball that was held a couple of days ago, she said she had something massive that she wanted to show me. Of course I agreed to meet her, however she didn’t arrive at the ball and I am unsure of what to make of it. Please, I need your help.” Eddy said looking needy.  
“We’ll try our best, what’s this girl’s name by the way?” I asked gently, a hand on his back. He looked as if he was about to cry.  
“Oh yes, sorry, silly me” He said weakly.  
“It’s Kate, Kate Storm.”


	5. I don't think even Smith can fix this

JOHN’S POV  
So there we were, Sherlock and I, sitting in the waiting room outside Mycroft’s office. We had decided to try and solve Eddy’s case and thought that the most logical place to start was to ask Mycroft, Kate’s employer. Just as we were getting impatient after waiting for so long Mycroft’s secretary invited us in. As I walked in I was taken aback by the vastness of his office. Oak coffee tables and big leather couches littered the room. Sherlock on the other hand was unfazed by the sheer class of the room.  
“Let’s just get this over and done with.” I thought I heard him mumble as we walked in.  
“Take a seat.” Mycroft ordered as he finished sorting a pile of paper and sat back in his large chair. We slowly took a seat across from him. I could see Sherlock glaring at his brother from the corner of my eye.  
“We were wondering if you could help us on a case?” I asked.  
“Well, we don’t really need your help; it’s just protocol to go to the employer first.” Sherlock said abruptly, annoyed by the fact that we needed his brothers help. Mycroft grinned.  
“How can I help?” He said exaggerating the word help which seemed to make Sherlock tense up. I coughed before starting.  
“Well, do you remember Kate Storm, she used to work for you?” I questioned. I could see Mycroft’s face growing a shade paler and a look of worry began to fill his eyes. He stood up quickly and gazed out the large window behind him that over-looked London. He was definitely hiding something.  
“Yes, a… lovely girl.” He stuttered.  
“How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?” I said carefully.  
“Drugs over-dose. Such a shame.” He said almost too quickly and too robotically.  
“Well, it seems that she didn’t die, she’s still alive.” I said quietly.  
“How do you know?” He asked turning round, a look of worry still on his face.  
“Eddy Banks, he used to work for the government, said that she phoned him saying that she had something massive to show him. Do you have any idea what this thing could have been?” I’m sure he went a shade paler after I had said that.  
“No idea, sorry but I’m not much help and I have a lot of work to do so if you could please leave me to It.” he said shakily.  
“Could I get a picture of her please?” I asked before getting up.  
“Yes, yes I’ll send one to you.” He said as he waved his hand dismissively.  
“Thank you Mr. Holmes.” I said as I got up to leave.  
MYCROFT’S POV  
“What do we do Smith?” I asked my adviser as I paced up and down my office, not long after Sherlock and John had left.  
“I’ve heard that the government database was hacked into a few days ago, extremely important information went missing, it seems as if Miss Storm was the one that hacked into the database and the information was what she was going to show Banks.” Smith said robotically.  
“She was with Moriarty when I met up with him, I need to find her before he, or Sherlock manages to get a hold of the information she had.”  
“We have all our teams trying to find her.”  
I stopped pacing the office, an idea had struck me. I looked at Smith with a grin.  
“How about we convince Moriarty to trade Miss Storm for Moran?”  
Smith nodded. “It’s worth a try.”


	6. Dying is the least of my problems...

CHAPTER 6  
KATE’S POV  
I watched the clock as its hands edged its way towards 5 o’clock. I had showered and put on some jeans and a t-shirt that I had found in the back of one of the many wardrobes in the house. I was bored and tired. It had only been three days since the ball, yet it felt like a lifetime.  
I was sitting on the couch when I heard the front door unlock and quick footsteps make their way into the living room that I was sitting in. I looked up and was greeted by the cold, stern face of Moriarty.  
“Well, you’re quite the trouble maker.” He smirked.  
I narrowed my eyes at him questioningly as I leaned back into the couch and crossed my arms. He sat down on the chair opposite me.  
“There’s been a slight change in the prisoner exchange.” He said almost happily. I sat up again, half expecting what was about to come out of his thin smiling lips.  
“Mycroft now wants you, instead of the government official he was originally supposed to get. Isn’t that nice, you’re more important than a government official to him.” He smiled excitedly.  
“He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” I whispered. He cocked his head, the way you would if you were talking to a child, which was what I probably sounded like.  
“Yes kitty, and I don’t blame him, you are simply a nuisance to the government; you were going to bring them down. Considering what you’ve done, someone along the line was going to kill you, whether it was me, Mycroft, or one of the hundreds of criminals that hold a grudge against you. You see, you made quite a fuss in the criminal world; all my clients were talking about the mysterious hacker that managed to trace untraceable criminals. I was almost impressed, that was until I realised that the more criminals that got caught, the less clients I had and the less money I received.” He got up from his chair and looked down at me before walking over to me and leaning down, his mouth centimetres from my ear.  
“It’s a shame I suppose, all that talent, beauty and courage wasted. I envy Mycroft, he has the pleasure of killing you, and I had quite the ceremony planned. First I would have broken you, then your courage would have crumbled, a look of fear would’ve appeared on your tear sodden face and to have heard you whimper for mercy would’ve just been the cherry on the cake. It would have been so much fun, but I’m sure Mycroft will make you suffer, just maybe with a lot less fun.” He whispered, every word sending shivers down my spine. I was too tired and too shocked to say anything back so I stared at the floor as he walked out of the room.  
I was worried, no; I was scared, for the first time in a long time. Only God knew what the next couple of days would hold for me. I wasn’t scared of dying; in fact I welcomed the idea of escaping this world. I was just scared of reuniting with the ghosts of my past, and boy, were they going to haunt me.  
So there I was, sitting in one of Moriarty’s black cars with two body guards sitting next to me. Moriarty wasn’t there; apparently it was too dangerous for him to be here. We were all waiting in the abandoned car park, outside the warehouse, for Mycroft’s car to appear which would have the person that I was being traded for. After only about a minute of waiting a sleek black car arrived about 200 meters away from the car I was sitting in. I suddenly got cold as it hit me what was about to happen. I had kind of hoped that the other car wouldn’t arrive, but I realized that Mycroft would not miss a chance to kill me.  
I then remember getting grabbed by the arm and pulled out of the car. My legs felt weak, every piece of fight that I had left in me seemed to have melted into the concrete that lay beneath my feet.  
I got up and stood in front of the car that had taken me, which had its headlights on so that I could see through the darkness of the night, the other car had its headlights on, and I could see a faint silhouette of what seemed like a tall man, the man that I was being traded for.  
I saw a flicker of red and as I looked down at my chest I was greeted by a small red dot, someone was making sure I made no mistakes. As the red dot appeared the guard that was holding my arm let go. This was it.  
I began to walk.  
Everyone says that before you die you float towards a light at the end of a tunnel and then POOF! You’re dead. That’s what I felt like, going towards the headlights of Mycroft’s car.  
Every step felt like a mile.  
The features of the man that I was being traded with became more defined with every meter. I could see the silhouette of his scruffy hair and his broad shoulders. I could also see that he had a red dot on his chest too.  
When I was about 10 meters from the man that was walking, a strange thought hit me like a tonne of bricks. I thought I was imagining it, but the closer he came, the more familiar he got.  
He was now only two meters away. “It must be him I thought”  
One meter away.  
“Dad?!” I said when he was walking past.  
He looked up. It was him.


	7. I'm angry... can you tell?

KATE’S POV  
As he turned round my suspicions were confirmed, it was him. His eyes were dark and hollow, his dark blonde hair stuck up in all directions. I couldn’t breathe; this was the man that disappeared all those years ago. I thought he was dead and there he was standing in front of me. He just stared at me. I didn’t know how to feel, angry? Happy? Relieved?  
“KEEP WALKING!” A stern voice from behind me shouted, although at that moment it seemed more like a whisper due to the emotions that were filling my head. We both looked like deer in headlights, ironically.  
“I thought you were dead.” I whispered my voice cracking.  
He didn’t say anything just simply reached out his cold, pale hand and held my cheek. It was the first time anyone had shown any affection towards me in what seemed like centuries. A lone tear rolled down my cheek.  
He looked down as if he was ashamed before starting to walk again. I stood still, unsure of what to make of the situation. I looked at him as he walked, not once did he look back. I sighed as I felt a cold grip on my forearm. One of Mycroft’s men had come to fetch me; I was taking too long to walk after the whole ordeal. To be honest I felt so weak that without the tight grip on my arm, I probably would have collapsed. So I walked with him, wiping away any tears with my free hand, away from my father.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

SEBASTIAN’S POV  
As I got out the car I sighed, this was it, I was back, working for Moriarty. I didn’t know how to feel, if I hadn’t have seen my daughter, I would have probably been pleased to be out of the dangerous hands of the government. But at that moment I was livid. What the hell was Moriarty doing with my daughter?  
I walked purposefully up to the large door of the latest house that he had rented out and knocked twice. I then stood back. One of his men opened the door and said that he was in the living room. I took off my jacket and hung it over the rail of the stairs and headed into the living room where I would be greeted with the world’s most dangerous man.  
I walked in to find him sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. He didn’t say a word as I walked in so I composed myself and said.  
“A big hello to you too boss.”  
He looked up at last, his cold eyes glancing up and down my body, and a smirk playing on his lips.  
“Well, I never was one for social niceties but I’ll give this one a go.”  
He got up, straightened his suit jacket and walked over to me; he barely reached my eyes when it came to height. He then extended his hand towards me. It took me every ounce of control I had, not to twist it and make him regret the day he ever messed with my daughter, but I took it. I wanted to hear answers and violence wasn’t going to get them.  
He sat back down, told me to make myself comfortable, and then continued to read the newspaper. I stood, frozen, unsure how to break the topic to him. I decided to say it straight.  
“My daughter, she was the one I was being traded with.” I said after a while, my heart beat racing.  
He put down his newspaper and looked off into the distance and laughed slightly to himself before turning round to me.  
“Now that would explain the temper on that girl, she was feisty.” He said his eyes narrowing.  
I tried to keep my face straight and my heart steady. He was right I have always had a temper.  
“Do you remember how you got caught by the government?”  
“Yes, a hacker managed to hack into my computer.” I answered, wondering where he was going with this.  
“Your daughter was the hacker. She hacked into your computer; she didn’t know it was you because you changed your name. She was the reason you were being tortured and treated like an animal by the government.”  
I sat down, trying to make sense of the whole thing. So she was the mysterious hacker, the one that made me suffer at the hands of the government. I tried to pick a question out of the millions that were swimming around my head.  
“That still doesn’t explain why you had her.” I said quietly  
“Well, I made it my job to try and kill her. You see, within the two years that you were in the government cells, she had managed to cut my earnings by a good couple of million pounds. My clients were getting caught and killed, and I needed to put an end to it. So I found her myself.” He looked pleased with what he said. “And besides I loved having a pet to play with.” He grinned menacingly. I snapped. I lurched forwards and dragged him out of his chair before holding his throat and pinning him up against the wall in front of me.  
“If I’ve heard that you have touched her in any way, I will personally make sure that no one will find your body.” I said through gritted teeth. He laughed, well as much of a laugh as he could have produced at that point.  
“Good to have you back Moran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop! you've read them, let me know what you think. sorry for the weird chapter names, didn't know what to name them... thanks for reading! :D
> 
> P.S. if you want me to carry on writing more, please let me know in the comments. i just wanted to see if people liked them!


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